


Shotgun

by thesunmaid



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Drug Use, For the most part, M/M, Shotgunning, clothed rutting, dave has piercings, theyre like 17, what is sexualtiy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-22
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-02-10 00:30:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,774
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2003919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesunmaid/pseuds/thesunmaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Dude, you kissed me.”</p>
<p>“I did not <i>kiss</i> you.”</p>
<p>“You <i>totally</i> kissed me, how does that not qualify as kissing?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shotgun

**Author's Note:**

> havent written in for fucking ever this probably isnt too great but im just pumped that i was able to finish it in a reasonable amount of time

It’s late. Time is inching closer to 1:30 as you and Dave sit on the floor of his living room lazily watching movies. You’ve made it through a good chunk of the Cornetto trilogy and you are both determined to make it to the end. _“To the world’s end,”_ you think, allowing yourself a breathy chuckle.

You take one last bite of your now cold pizza and toss it back into the box sitting before you both. It’s at this that Dave lolls his head in your direction, shades ever present on his face, and asks you simply: “Wanna smoke?”

You raise your eyebrows at his suggestion, not even aware that he had weed to being with. You’ve never really smoked before, unless that curious drag you took from your dad’s forgotten pipe when you were six counts. You don’t think it does. It’s not even the same thing.

Dave is still starting at you, elbows propped up against the cushions of the couch, and you shake yourself from your tired thoughts. “Uh, sure,” is all you say, and it’s enough apparently as he hops up and saunters down the hallway towards his room. You stay firmly put on the scratchy carpet and wait for him to return. There’s some fumbling around in his room that you can hear; drawers opening and closing, a bit of clinking, then he’s walking back into the living room, reclaiming his seat next to you and setting his belongings out in front of you both.

There isn’t much to look at. A small, red lighter, a little zip lock bag, and his bowl. It’s averagely sized and like most of his belongings, colored red with some orange specks. He starts digging around in the bag without hesitation, and you watch with interest as his nimble fingers carefully fill the bowl. Once he’s satisfied, he raises the glass object between the both of you. “Okay, I’ll do it first, just watch me.” You shift all focus to his hands, watch the way they move with practiced ease, how his thin lips wrap around the mouthpiece, and how his chest rises as he lights the weed and breathes deeply. It glows as it burns, and once he’s satisfied he pulls his hands down to his lap. He exhales after a few moments, and you watch as the smoke rolls up towards the ceiling.

“Okay, your turn,” he says, inching closer to you. You slide closer as well, and your shoulder brushes up against his own as he hands over the pipe. You hold it curiously in your hands, turning it around a bit as he explains to you what to do. “Just hold it in for as long as you can. Take the extra breath, it helps to push it down,” he says, lighting the weed for you as you take your first hit.

You think you’re doing it right. There’s definitely a burn and you can feel it in your throat. After a few moments you exhale, but nothing comes out. “You gotta feel it,” Dave thumps his hand against his chest, “in here. C’mon, try again.” He lines up the lighter with your hands and lights when you’re ready. You sit up straighter, feeling it as the burn scratches deep down your throat and it takes a lot of self control not to sputter. It doesn’t do much good though, and you can see the smoke drifting out from your nostrils as you clap your hand over your mouth, trying to hold it in.

Dave is already taking another hit while you cough out the rest of the smoke. Once he’s satisfied, his hand comes up to rub at your back. “Theeeere you go,” he smiles as you sputter a little more. You reach towards one of your cans of soda and take a large swig. The sting of the soda doesn’t exactly help but the liquid is enough to calm you down. “You feeling anything?”

“I’m not even sure what it is I’m supposed to be feeling exactly,” you reply, wiping at your lip and turning back to face him. He shrugs, limbs loose as he goes to take another hit. “How many times am I supposed to do this?” you ask, and he shrugs again.

“Different for everyone, also depends on the shit you have. Three is my average. Don’t know about you though. But don’t worry, I’m determined.”

You take another hit, and he’s smiling lazily as he lights for you again. It still burns but you’re able to hold it in better this time, and go a good 10 seconds before you’re exhaling the smoke into the room. Dave starts giggling beside you.

“Is that all being high is?” you ask. “Just giggling?”

“Nah, man, naaah,” Dave says, slumping a bit, a few more giggles escaping through his lips. He moves his hands into the air, head nodding as he smiles. “It’s chill, just give it a sec.”

So you then proceed to give it a sec. You feel tired, that’s for damn sure. You’re still not sure you’re really feeling anything. “Dave, I don’t think this is working. Maybe I’m immune.”

“Dude, no,” he says, and he crooks his finger at you in that ‘come here’ way. So you do, and he goes to take another hit. What you weren’t expecting, however, was for him to press his open mouth against yours, and you’re too surprised to even notice the smoke inside your mouth until you’re pulling back and sputtering. Dave just starts laughing again.

“Dude- what!?” you stammer, wiping at your mouth.

“You were supposed to breathe it in, dipshit.”

“What!?”

“The smoke. It’s called shotgunning.” He shrugs. “I’ve always wanted to try it. Also heard that it makes the process a little easier. Might as well test the theory.”

“Dude, you _kissed_ me.”

“I did not _kiss_ you.”

“You _totally_ kissed me, how does that not qualify as kissing?”

He groans, his head lolling back to rest against the couch. “It’s not a big deal. It’s not like you haven’t had a kiss before it’s nothing to freak out about. What are you, twelve? Now just relax, you’re gonna kill your high.”

So you do as he says and relax. After setting up the final movie of the trilogy, you lean back against the couch with Dave again. Then you begin to feel it. A lightness in your chest and a looseness in your limbs. The giggles rise out of your throat like bubbles. Nothing’s even funny but for some reason you can’t stop the soft laughter that escapes you. Dave just smiles.

Some time passes before you notice Dave staring at you in your peripherals. You turn your head to see his loose smile and you stare for a few moments yourself before laughing. “What?”

He just shakes his head and turns away, smile still on his face as he watches the movie.

You let your mind drift, thoughts focusing back on the pseudo-kiss. You we’re too flipped out to actually register anything, but you vaguely remember his lips being a lot more pliable than you had been expecting. Dave was right when he said that it wasn’t your first kiss, but it had also been a while since you had been kissed in general. You doubt that dare in middle school even qualifies as a real kiss anyway. Dumb middle schoolers.

Your gaze shifts over to Dave, who is no longer paying you any attention. Your eyes scan lazily and unfocused over his face until they stop on his lips, and you remember the way they wrapped around the mouthpiece. You find yourself biting at your lip subconsciously.

Before you know what you’re doing, your elbowing his side, attempting to get his attention. “Hey, Dave. Hey,” you repeat, still lightly jabbing at his side. 

He hums, “what?” still not looking at you.

“We should. . . The, uh. . . Shotgun.”

That gets his attention, and he turns to you, eyebrow quirked. “You gonna flip out again?”

“I’m the one asking, so no, shut up.”

His lips quirk into a sly smile and he sits up, stretching before going back to his bowl. Once he grabs it, he moves closer, sitting beside you, one leg propped up so he could rest his elbow against it casually. “You ready?” he asks, and you nod, so he lights up.

You can feel the butterflies grow more restless in your stomach and he drags, then leans over, tilting his head. Hesitantly, you close the distance.

Well it’s. . . nice. His lips mold against yours to keep any smoke from seeping out, and you pull your mind away from the feel of his surprisingly soft lips to focus on breathing. You think you both linger a little too long, but you don’t care. Except the way he drags his lips against yours as he pulls away _definitely_ qualifies as a kiss. You are totally okay with this.

“Wait,” he says. “That wasn’t a good hit. One more time.” You are still totally okay with this. This time, when he leans over, he grabs your chin in his hand and pulls you closer, connecting your lips with more force than previously. This is _definitely_ a kiss.

Do you care?

Hell fucking no.

After breathing in, you don’t pull away. Neither does he. His hand is still tight on your chin as your lips push against his, and you exhale through your nose as he pulls his lips back but yep, there he is again, lips brushing against your own and moving against you, the pretense of shotgunning totally gone.

It’s a little damp and you’re not even completely sure if you’re doing this whole “kissing” thing correctly but it feels nice and that’s all you really care about. You both begin to shift simultaneously. His leg falls as his hands move to cup your cheek and wrap around the back of your neck. Your hands move around his waist, and you part your lips to be a little more accommodating to the situation.

It doesn’t take long for him to start teasing at your lips with his tongue, and you lazily oblige to him, keeping yourself quiet as you feel his tongue stud roll against your tongue. Wow. Who knew that’d be hot.

You’re pressing close to each other now, and you feel a tightness in your gut as you start falling backwards to the floor. Dave doesn’t even part from you, just swings his leg over and straddles you in those tight black jeans he always wears. Double wow.

The lazy kisses last for a bit until Dave becomes dissatisfied. He cups your face and begins kissing across your jaw until he has free range of your neck, which he begins with kissing before you start to feel the scrape of his teeth and soft sucking and holy shit.

You hum encouragingly, and he just sucks harder. Your hands move down his sides until you’re gripping his hips and he’s moving fluidly against you. You’ve never been too loud when it comes to these things but your labored breathing is always inevitable. When he ruts down against you however, your breath hitches and you roll your head back. He takes advantage of the room and moves to leave another mark closer to your collarbone.

“Holy shit this is happening,” you say as he rolls down against you again and your hands grip at his hips tighter. He leans into your grip and goddamn. 

“Better believe it,” he says before moving back to kiss you and you happily oblige. You lean up into him, tilting your chin up to meet him halfway and he hums against you.

You’re both rocking against each other now, relaxed and with rhythm but your jeans are becoming uncomfortable against your dick. You move your hands further down Dave’s sides until your palming his ass and he fucking melts against you, pulling back to gasp and push against you harder. You smirk as you continue to grip at him, and his face is scrunched up and so very not cool, but what about Dave was honestly cool to begin with? His heavy breathing was pretty hot though, and you knock his shades away because honestly they were just getting annoying. He doesn’t protest.

“Jesus, shit, John,” he breathes and damn does that sound nice. You roll your hips up into Dave’s particularly roughly as you continue to palm at his ass and then he’s done for. “Shit, fuck, fuck,” he says to himself as he pulls back and starts fumbling with his belt and zipper. You don’t move your hands and stare unabashedly at his crotch as he undoes his jeans. He leans back down again, kissing you roughly as he palms himself and wow. Wow this is actually really happening. Like, this is a thing that is really transpiring at this exact moment you can’t believe it. Dave Strider. Best bro. Super attractive. In your lap and aroused and kissing you. This is really happening. Fucking awesome.

“Wait,” you say, and he lifts his hips as your hands go for your own belt as well. His moving hand brushes against yours occasionally. The hand he’s using to get himself off. Holy shit.

And then he’s grinding down against you, and the friction is wonderful sans jeans in the way. His hand is still down there, but now he’s rubbing it against you and it feels fantastic when it’s someone else’s palm. You spread your legs a little farther until their pressing up against the back of Dave’s thighs and you rut up against his hand. “Wait, wait,” you say again before batting his hand away, wanting to feel him for yourself. He leans into your touch, his lips latched back onto your neck, teeth scraping as you palm him through his boxers.

With a bit of courage you slip your fingers through the part in the fabric and actually feel him. Hot, heavy, and you can feel a few drops of pre leaking out and holy shit. Holy shit holy shit holy shit.

He starts touching you again and you sigh shakily, but his movements become jerky as you wrap your fingers around his length. “Wow,” you say, playing with the head of his dick.

“Feels good, right?” he asks, his voice scratchy and low.

“Well, yeah, that too. I just never imagined touching you would be as hot as it is.”

“John, oh my God,” and he makes a noise against the crook of your neck. “You should not. . . be able to talk right now.”

“You’re the one making noises, not me.”

“Shut up,” he breathes, and he’s kissing you roughly again. You feel his hand reach into your boxers and play with your dick before fishing you out of the cotton restraints, and then he’s pulling himself out as well and rutting down against you and yep. That shut you up pretty well.

With Dave’s body pressed flush against yours, hips rolling and fingers moving and lips pressing, it doesn’t take too long until you feel yourself getting close, and you can hear Dave pleading quietly above you. Eyes scrunched, mouth moving quickly as words like “Oh fuck,” and “Please, please, John, please,” fall from his lips. That’s what finally pushes you over, and you arch up against him, legs splaying as wide as they can with him still straddling you, your breath hitching in your throat as you come.

Dave isn’t much farther behind, and he whines a bit as he jerks against your flagging erection, marking up your messy shirt as he releases. You proceed to not give any fucks.

He slumps down against you, both of your chests heaving. You bring your arms up to wrap around his waist and he noses back into your neck, exhausted. You give yourselves a few minutes to recover, and then he’s rolling off of you and grabbing the napkins by the pizza box to clean himself up. He throws some at you before he stands and tucks himself back into his boxers then zips his jeans back up. Tiredly, you move to do the same, and once you’re both done situating yourselves you find yourself sitting back in the same spot you had been before you started.

“So,” Dave says, shades back on his face as he watches the movie that’s still playing, “You’ve imagined touching me before, huh?” And there’s a sly smirk on his lips.

You throw a pillow at his face and he laughs, and you laugh. 

You make a mental note to try shotgunning more often.


End file.
